what have i
become?my sweetest friendeveryone i knowgoes away in
the endyou could have
it allmy empire of
dirti will let you
downi will make you
hurt--Nine Inch
Nails,
"hurt,"
The Downward Spiral (Nothing TVT/Interscope, 1994)

"Wake u-up,
XE-na!
It's time to play-ay!"

The annoyingly
childish singsong of Callisto's voice broke in Xena's consciousness,
followed
immediately by a drenching shock of icy cold water. Xena jerked,
realizing that she was chained, hand and foot, and she was naked.
A chain around her waist was connected to the cuffs that held her
wrists
behind her back. She awkwardly managed to sit up, shook water off
her face, and, trying not let her jolting shivers reach her voice, said
coolly, "What's this all about, Callisto? You were buried under
the
lava. How did I get here?"

"Welllll,"
said
Callisto, "a long time ago, I used to play with my friends, but then my
friends all went away." Her face darkened momentarily before
resuming
a manic smile. "I didn't know who to play with any more, but then
I thought, 'I'll invite Xena over!' So here you are!"

"This hardly
constitutes
an invitation, Callisto," retorted Xena drily, battling down the shadow
of fear that was creeping across her consciousness--Callisto's mania
seemed
terribly and terrifyingly focused. "Where's Gabrielle?"

Callisto
pouted
and sighed. "Gabrielle doesn't interest me. She's probably
waking up just now wondering where her best pal is!" Callisto
laughed
gleefully at the image. "I just spirited you away in your sleep,
Xena. I'm a goddess now, remember? And I'm much stronger
than
I was--strong enough to burn my way through that lava--fight fire with
fire, they say!" she said brightly. "You'll be glad to know I
left
that bor-ring Velasca behind. She was terrible company. I
think
you'll be so much more FUN!" she exclaimed, her voice rising almost to
a squeak on the last word. Her mood changed instantly to a dark
fury.
"So amuse me, Xena!" she declared as she slapped Xena sharply across
the
face, once on each side.

Xena winced
slightly
as her cheeks burned. She snapped, "I'm hardly in a position to
be
amusing, Callisto," while gesturing toward her chains.

Callisto's
expression
took on a wide-eyed innocence. "Well, that only makes it more
challenging,
dear!"
Callisto stood looming over her prisoner, legs apart, hands on her
hips,
looking like nothing so much as a recalcitrant and demanding child.

"Well, I'm
sorry
to disappoint you," remarked Xena in the most bored and nonchalant tone
she could manage, "but I'm just not interested."

Callisto
grabbed
Xena under one arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. "Well, I'm
sorry, darling Xe-na," she hissed, " but you're going to amuse me
whether
you like it or not." She struck Xena a powerful blow in the gut,
followed immediately by another. Xena collapsed backward, her
head
striking the cave wall, and darkness pounced on her.

* * *

Xena's eyes
fluttered
open, and the first thing that caught her attention was the throbbing
ache
in the back of her head. The strain across her back and arms,
from
having been left slumped over in an awkward position with her hands
chained
behind her back, was the next thing she noticed. When she tried
to
move, she became aware of a deep knot of pain inside her stomach.
This was when she remembered everything that had happened. As
Callisto
laughed at her struggles, Xena was finally awakened to a complete
understanding
of her situation. She was truly helpless. She couldn't
wriggle
her way out of iron cuffs, the way she could out of most rope
bindings.
She tested the strength of the chains, but Callisto had picked her
materials
well, and she couldn't break them. Her weapons were back with
Gabrielle.
All she had was her tongue, but trying to talk Callisto out of whatever
her plans were seemed completely futile. She knew at least that
she could deal with physical pain very effectively, and she determined
not to give Callisto the satisfaction of seeing her break down.
The
only thing that mattered was that she get out of this and get back to
Gabrielle.

Furious and
frustrated,
Xena used her hands to brace herself and shoved herself into a sitting
position. As Callisto approached her, Xena pulled her legs back
and
kicked out. Callisto easily stepped out of the way, but snapped,
"Xe-na! You're
not cooperating."

"No, I'm not,"
responded Xena flatly.

Callisto
giggled.
"Well the great thing about this is you don't have to
cooperate.
I can think of plenty of games we can play anyway!" The
artificial
brightness in Callisto's voice grated on Xena's already strained
nerves.
Callisto pointed at Xena's ankles, and the short chain between them
vanished.
Instead her legs were spread, and the cuffs connected to iron rings
embedded
in the cave floor. "Now that's better," noted Callisto,
eyeing
her prisoner appraisingly. "You're more accessible."
Striking
an exaggeratedly thoughtful pose, she mused, "How should I take
you first? I'm a goddess, Xena, and the possibilities are endless."

* * *

Gabrielle woke
up, sleepily pushing aside the blanket that was now too warm. The day
before
they had come upon a village recovering from a rockslide, and Xena had
set to work using her medical skills, stitching up wounds, setting
fractures
and in a couple of cases, amputating gangrenous limbs. Gabrielle
had been shaken by the extent of the injuries, particularly to
children,
but she had been pleased at how much more competent she had become as
Xena's
assistant in treating injuries than she used to be.

After two days
of treating the injured, she and Xena had continued on their way, with
Xena clearly embarrassed at the villagers' expressions of
gratitude.
Exhausted, they had set up a minimal camp, and curled up together spoon
fashion to go to sleep. Gabrielle was expecting to wake up as she
often did, with Xena's hand inside her bodice, cupping a breast.
There was no hand. Gabrielle rolled over, only to realize that
Xena
wasn't there at all. Instinctively, she reached for her staff and
leapt up. "Xena?" she called out tentatively.

When she got
no
answer she inspected their campsite, with a thoroughness born of
experience.
Xena had simply vanished into thin air. There should have been
footprints
in the relatively soft ground, but there weren't. Gabrielle's
face
went white. "No, that's not possible," she murmured. "Could
she have really gotten out?" Or, as she reflected, another god
might
be involved. Ares, perhaps. Xena wouldn't just disappear on
her, and even if she had, she would have left prints. As
Gabrielle
scoured the small clearing and the area around it for any clues, she
increasingly
realized that she was out of her league. She gathered up Xena's
armor
and weapons, where they had been discarded the night before, loaded
everything
on the patient Argo, and set off to find some help. If the gods
were
involved, she at least knew where to start.

* * *

There was a
long
chain that could be attached the chain around Xena's waist, when
Callisto
led her outside to a conveniently leafy bush to tend to bodily
needs.
She was also hobbled by a short chain between her ankle cuffs.
Godlike
powers or no, Callisto wasn't taking any chances. While she
amused
herself in confining Xena in various positions--sometimes standing with
her hands pulled above her head and her legs apart, sometimes hogtied,
sometimes lying on her back or her side, sometimes sitting up against
the
wall of the cave--she always made sure Xena's arms were immobilized
before
she did anything to her legs and vice versa.

There were
routines.
When Callisto tired of playing, she usually knocked her prisoner out
with
a blow to the back of the head. Xena's head throbbed in multiple
places. She almost always woke her up with a bucketful of icy
water
from a nearby stream. Xena was always cold, and the iron of her
cuffs
chafed and ached. "Poor thing, you're so cold," Callisto would
mock,
lightly brushing her thumbs across Xena's goosebump-pricked breasts and
hard, throbbing nipples, and Xena inwardly cursed the small part of
herself
that wanted that touch repeated. Callisto did not want to
endanger
her "playfellow's" life, however, and she would point to the floor,
creating
a warming fire each night. On particularly cold nights, she
allowed
Xena a cloak, which was always yanked off in the morning before the
inevitable
cold splash.

On the first
day,
she was denied food and water. She woke up faint and parched the
next day, feeling nauseous from dehydration. Callisto crouched in
front of her, took a long drink from a water skin, then offered her
mouth
to Xena. Xena shook her head, furious and defiant. Her
defiance
didn't last long. If she was to have water at all, it was passed
from Callisto's mouth to hers, and Callisto always made her wait so
long,
that she clung to her gaoler's lips greedily, sucking down every drop
of
secondhand moisture. Mouthful after mouthful she drank from
Callisto's
lips, simultaneously boiling inside at the degradation and hating
herself
for the faint thrill she felt when Callisto's lips touched her
own.
What little food she was allowed, Callisto fed her by hand. Xena
knew she had no other choice but to eat it to survive. She had no
idea how long the goddess intended to keep her there. And she
realized
that Callisto had no intention of ever allowing her prisoner use of her
hands. There was one possible way out of this, but it was one she
knew she could never take.

* * *

"Do you ever
think
of yourself as an Artist, Xena?" asked Callisto rhetorically, as she
paced
around Xena, who was bound in a standing position, arms above her
head.
Callisto was tossing a knife in the air and catching it as she circled
her prey like a vulture.

"Look at me,
Xena!"
she demanded, standing directly in front of her prisoner. Xena's
eyes traveled over the short leather skirt, the sheath for the knife,
the bare stomach, the breasts swelling slightly out of the leather that
molded them, the gauntleted arms, and she was mortified at how
desirable
she found the sight before her. Under other circumstances,
Callisto
would have been just the type the old Xena would have felt compelled to
try to conquer--or let herself be conquered by. A mirror suddenly
materialized on a stand. "Now look in here." Xena saw a
blonde happy girl with bright eyes, dressed in a long skirt, playing
with
another girl that could have been a sister. The girls reminded
her
disconcertingly of Gabrielle when she first met her in Poteidaia.
"That was me," said Callisto flatly. "And my sister. Now
look
at me again. I'm what you created, Xe-na! You
molded
me from that village girl just as surely as if you'd used your own
hands.
Do you like your handiwork?"

"Not
particularly,"
muttered Xena.

"Aha!" cried
Callisto.
"The Creator rejects her Creation. You claim to despise the gods,
sweetheart, but you're no different." Xena winced, partly at
Callisto's
statement, and partly at the continuous rise and fall of her voice, a
voice
that made her skin twitch with both fear and irritation.

"I didn't make
you," Xena protested weakly.

Two sharp
slaps
exploded on her face. "You know you did," said Callisto, her
voice
hard. "Did you know then you would try to turn your life
around?
Did you anticipate you would need a new body for the old Xena?
Someone
to do all the things the new Xena denies herself? When we
switched
bodies, I felt so . . . ," she paused, frowning in childish
concentration,
one finger slightly pulling her lower lip. "So . . . at
home.
You made me, and you made sure you'd be the only influence in my
life.
You killed Mommy. Where else could I find a role model? And
I'm convenient for you, aren't I? You still haven't thanked me
for
killing that insignificant farmer your girlfriend married."
Callisto's
voice thickened with menace, then abruptly shifted into a singsong,
babyish
tone, while her face broke out into a sunny smile. "Yes, I wanted
to do Xena a favor. A big favor. I couldn't bear to
see her unhappy, for her to lose her little friend. I know
you wanted that Perdy-jerk to disappear. So he did!"
Callisto's
voice rose to a squeak, and she beamed and cackled triumphantly.
Suddenly, the hard edge returned. "So where's your gratitude,
XE-na?
Why don't you thank me for making your happiness
possible?
Why don't you thank me for being the cold-hearted, self-interested
BITCH
you really are inside, but keep trying to hide from yourself?
Perdicas
is dead, and Xena gets the blonde--all thanks to Callisto!"

Xena felt her
heart crack inside her at the partial truth of Callisto's words.
A knot of panic whipped cords around itself in her chest, cutting off
her
breath. She gasped for air. How could she make love to
Gabrielle,
when she had secretly wished that Perdicas had never existed? How
could she claim to love Gabrielle, when her first reaction to
Callisto's
murder of Perdicas had been an instant--and instantly extinguished by a
horrified conscience--secret flash of joy and relief? And how
could
she play the games she did with Gabrielle, knowing the truth about
herself?
The games--Xena had a vision of Gabrielle, naked, lying on the grass
with
her hands bound above her head to Xena's chakram, which was embedded in
the ground. Xena felt the cuffs on her wrists dig in a little
deeper,
and the connection was too much. She threw up.

Callisto
laughed
a bright tinkling laugh, then remarked, "Dis-gust-ing. The truth
hurts, doesn't it, dear?" She waved her hand impatiently,
cleaning
up the mess on the floor and on her prisoner. The humiliation it
would have afforded Xena was not worth the assault on her heightened
senses.

"Of course,"
explained
Callisto, as if nothing had happened, "sometimes Creator and Creation
can
trade places. I'm the Artist now. Do you like what I've
made
of you dear? The raw material was a little rough, but I think
I've
worked wonders." She positioned the mirror in front of Xena,
grasping
Xena's chin with her other hand, and forcing her to look. Xena
looked
into a hollow face, with red eyes outlined with bruised flesh.
Her
hair was matted and tangled into a Medusa-like horror. Her lips
were
cracked with dehydration. With an oddly detached curiosity, she
studied
her figure as Callisto moved the mirror. Her arms held above her
head were rail-thin and covered with purple bruises on the
underside.
Her collarbone and ribs stuck out of very pale skin, and red marks
stood
out against her breasts.

"Nice work,
Callisto,"
she muttered wearily. "You must be very proud of yourself."

"No prouder
than
you are of
your Creation, my love," retorted the goddess.
"But I'm not at all through with you yet. There's plenty of
untouched
surface."

Callisto drew
her knife, and Xena briefly sagged against her cuffs in horror.
She
knew Callisto had no intention of killing her, but, having been both
the
victim and the inflicter of torture before, she also knew very well
that
Callisto could hurt her in any number of ways without causing permanent
damage.

"Now, let's
see-ee,"
mused Callisto, her lips pursed and her eyes gleaming ferally.
"I'm
in rather a bardic mode. What shall I write?"

Callisto
snapped
her fingers, so that another mirror appeared behind Xena. "This
way
you'll be able to admire my handiwork, Xena."

"You're too
kind,"
sighed Xena.

"Aren't I
though?
I just
knew we'd have so much fun together!" Callisto
licked her lips and moved into position behind her victim. Xena
forced
away the fear rising in her, and through sheer will battled back the
tear
that was threatening to leak from her eye. She hadn't cried yet
and
wasn't about to start now. Instead she willed her body to relax,
drawing on every pain-controlling mechanism she knew. By the time
she looked in the mirror before her, reflecting her backside from the
mirror
behind, she had adopted a resigned passivity, knowing she had no other
options. She drew on her inner strength to endure, an inner
strength
that in recent years had taken on the form of a blonde bard. Even
if everything Callisto said was right, loving Gabrielle was the essence
of what she had to live for.

Callisto was
poised
with the knife, her face in a calculatedly thoughtful attitude.
"Got
it!" she exclaimed, then pulled Xena's hair out of the way, and began
to
carve letters into Xena's back. Xena's face contorted into a
silent
grimace of pain, and the slightest sigh escaped her lips. At the
same time, she had the distance to observe that it was a good thing the
knife was sharp and cut cleanly--a duller blade would do more
damage.
The pain was sharp and intense, little concentrated ripples of
lightning
on her skin, but she had suffered worse. Callisto took her time,
however, cutting each letter with exquisite precision, while Xena
concentrated
on keeping her body limp and her breathing steady, as she watched lines
of blood ooze up on her skin.

After an
indeterminate
amount of time, Callisto finished. She walked around in front of
her victim, carefully and sensuously licked every drop of blood from
the
blade, and scrunched up her face with pleasure, "Mmm-mmm." Biting
her lower lip to arrest a dangerous tremble that was making its way
there,
Xena gazed impassively in the mirror. Her back was emblazoned
with
"CALLISTO OF CIRRA WAS HERE," and thin tendrils of blood ran from the
wounds.

"So, it's not
very poetic, but it's the best I could do on short notice," said
Callisto
with a shrug. "I'm sure your little bard friend could do better."

The wounds
throbbed
with contact with the open air, but Xena remained quiet and
resigned.
She had a fierce drive to survive, but she could see no way out on her
own. Callisto's powers were too great, and her control of Xena's
every move too complete. Her helplessness terrified her, but her
life had afforded her a lot of practice at suppressing any show of her
feelings. She tried to empty herself of need and desire and even
anger, as Lao Ma had taught her, as it seemed very clear to her that
revealing
her own feelings would only fuel the desires of her tormentor even more.

Xena's
passivity
enraged Callisto, who flared out in fury. Suddenly a bucket
appeared
in Callisto's hands, and she flung the contents at Xena's back--it was
salted water. Xena choked the scream that rose in her throat, and
distorted her face, emitting only a stifled, "Uggghh!" Callisto's
arm whipped through the air, and Xena found herself on her stomach,
arms
and legs spread and cuffed to iron rings embedded in the cave floor.

"Let's see
just
how stoic you can be, old friend!" snapped Callisto impatiently.
She was a frustrated child in the midst of a tantrum, and Xena merely
pressed
her cheek against the cold floor, intending only to ride it out.
Callisto fetched a candle, then sat down next to her victim and began
systematically
dripping hot wax into the wounds. Each drip of the candle was a
brief
shock of liquid fire that quickly turned into a deep and ferocious
itch,
but again Xena had suffered worse. Having serious wounds
cauterized
on the battlefield hurt far more than this, even when Callisto
repeatedly
dripped wax on the same spot, and the pain lanced through layers of
skin
and nerves like a thick needle. Again, what made the annoyance
turn
into torment was the time Callisto was taking. She had lost her
angry
mood, and was now entranced by the patterns she was making with the hot
wax, humming to herself, and cocking her head first on one side and
then
on the other as she worked. Xena was surprised at her tormentor's
patience. One after another, in an endless series, came the hot
splashes
of wax. In a dreamy voice, Callisto murmured, "You know, Xena,
there
are other places I can use this too." She was true to her word.

* * *

//She had
Gabrielle
lying on her back on a platform, her hands tied to her chakram,
embedded
somehow into the platform itself. Iron cuffs held Gabrielle's
legs
apart. She was systematically dripping hot wax onto Gabrielle's
breasts,
stomach, and thighs, while Gabrielle writhed and moaned. She was
strategically positioning the candle, so as to cover as much flesh
possible.
Every splash elicited a sharp cry from the body beneath her . . .

. . .
Callisto
writhed and wriggled in her bonds, making little squeaks of delight as
the hot wax struck her body. "Ooh, Xena, I like your technique,"
she purred. "You know how to give a girl a good
time."
She had to quiet that voice, that voice that irritated every
nerve.
She bent over Callisto, pressed her mouth to Callisto's, and plunged
her
tongue down her throat . . .

. . .
Gabrielle
cried out, "Please don't! Please stop!" She raked her
struggling
victim with her eyes. So delicious. She licked her lips,
and
as she did she glimpsed a mirror that hadn't been there before.
Her
eyes flicked there briefly, and she saw Callisto's face . . .//

Xena woke with
a start. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, she told
herself.
Where she was wasn't a dream, however. Her arms ached from being
cuffed behind her back, and the cuffs on her wrists and ankles chafed.

Callisto
wandered
into her field of vision, and, as if bored, casually tossed the morning
bucket of cold water on her prisoner. "You stink," she said,
raising
her eyebrows in mock exasperation. "Time for a bath. Get
up."
Xena struggled to her feet, and Callisto led her outside, tugging on
the
chain that went around Xena's waist and connected to the cuffs on
her wrists. She was hobbled by a short chain that connected her
ankle
cuffs. Weak and hungry, Xena stumbled, and Callisto swatted her
hard
on her buttocks.

"You're
filthy,
Xena. I don't like it," declared Callisto decisively.
"Hurry
up." Xena concentrated, finding the appropriate gait, and she
allowed
herself to be led to a nearby pool fed by a mountain stream. Her
heart ached at the contrast between the beauty of the place and the
horror
of her companion.

Callisto waded
into the water, pulling Xena after her. "Now hold still!" she
demanded.
Callisto tossed the free end of the chain over an overhanging branch,
and
the links fused to make a closed loop. "I love being a god," she
said laconically. "It's so convenient."

"You could get
me clean instantly with your powers," commented Xena helpfully, but
without
much hope.

"I know," said
Callisto, her eyes brightening, "but this way will be so much more fun.
After all, that's why we're here. For my amusement."

Callisto held
out her hand, palm up, and a soapy sponge appeared on it. Xena
endured
the indignity of a thorough scrubbing without another word, as her
gaoler
first washed her hair, then washed her body from head to foot,
lingering
more on some areas than others. The soap stung the carved places
on her back, and Callisto's vigorous style with the sponge revealed to
Xena sore spots she hadn't even been aware of.

She could feel
a tremor begin to run through her, as she realized her body was
responding
to certain touches, as it had at other times during her captivity,
despite
her all-consuming hatred of the person touching her. She stilled
the tremor and silently moved into the positions Callisto
indicated.
"Any job large or small . . . " chanted Callisto cheerfully as she
worked.

"Your devotion
to duty is touching, Callisto," murmured Xena dully.

"I'm glad you
think so!" responded Callisto with her usual manic enthusiasm, as a
large
comb appeared in her hand and the sponge winked out of existence.
She was surprisingly gentle in combing out the numerous tangles in
Xena's
hair. She worked the comb carefully through a small section at a
time, until Xena's hair was pristine. Callisto continued to glide
the comb through Xena's silky black hair, and the sensation was so
comforting
that Xena almost relaxed for a moment into a feeling of safety.
She
glanced back quickly, and the look on Callisto's face startled
her--affection
shone out of warm, concerned eyes. Moments later, Callisto
recovered
herself, smacked Xena sharply on the buttocks several times with the
comb,
then tossed it into the air, where it vanished.

"Come on!" she
snapped, freeing the chain from the tree branch and yanking hard.
"I have a lot of plans for you today!" Xena followed, her mind
lost
in the amazement of realizing the feelings Callisto had buried for the
warrior princess. The expression on her face as she had lovingly
combed Xena's hair had resembled nothing so much as that of a young
girl
with an adolescent crush who was being allowed to minister to her
idol.
It reminded her disturbingly of Gabrielle the first few weeks they had
traveled together. But Gabrielle was no longer that starstruck
child--she
had grown into the woman Xena loved, and Xena once again resolved to be
strong.

* * *

She lost count
of the days. Any improvement in her condition from her bath was
long
gone. Her hair was a mass of tangles, and her body was encrusted
with dirt from the cave floor layered here and there with dried
blood.
Callisto had been getting increasingly frustrated with her visitor, and
had lost patience with subtle torments. While Xena was
immobilized,
hands over her head, Callisto struck and kicked her all over,
punctuating
each blow with a shriek. Day after day, Xena endured a severe
beating,
bruises erupting under other bruises and welts emerging from Callisto's
flesh-wrenching pinches. And after each beating, she was chained
in a kneeling position and forced to take her food and water from the
fingers
and lips of her tormentor. One day, Callisto re-carved the legend
on Xena's back. Some days she amused herself by dancing around
her
victim with a stick, striking her with it at random. Xena never
knew
when or where the next blow would fall. As Xena took it all with
dull resignation and passivity, Callisto got more infuriated, and would
kick or punch Xena in the back or stomach before chaining her up for
the
night.

One day, Xena
made the mistake of muttering, "I would have thought you'd be more
inventive,
Callisto. You're going to kill me with boredom."

"Oh, I'm so happy
to hear that, XE-na! You'll just love what I have planned
for you today!"

Callisto waved
her hand, and Xena's manacles and chains all disappeared. "This
will
be more interesting if I give you a sporting chance, old friend," she
taunted.
Callisto was between Xena and the cave entrance. Without warning,
she pointed at Xena and a streak of flame shot from her finger, burning
Xena on the arm. Xena instinctively slapped the tiny flame
out.
As Callisto pointed again, Xena ducked and rolled, but her extensive
injuries
and minimal meals left her sluggish and her reactions slow.
Although
she dodged some of Callisto's bolts of flame, most of them hit their
mark.
Xena had to be in constant motion, so the flames that did connect did
not
burn too long in the same spot. Patches of skin began to redden
and
blister, but Callisto didn't stop, and Xena either rolled to put out
the
flames or slapped them out with her increasingly painful hands.
Every
muscle throbbed from the daily beatings, and any movement was torture
enough.

Callisto's aim
was terrifyingly precise, as she avoided Xena's hair, yet managed to
deposit
small burns systematically all over Xena's body, yet none were
life-threatening.
She cackled with manic glee, dancing merrily with the flames shooting
from
her fingertips. After a while, she switched to lighting bolts,
but
Xena didn't discern much difference in the sensation. It hurt
either
way, and it was harder and harder to spin out of Callisto's way.
A desperate idea formed in her mind. She ran toward her
tormentor,
enduring the increasingly intense flashes of pain, and attempted a flip
over Callisto's head. She didn't have the strength however, and
collapsed
on her back at Callisto's feet, able only to roll enough to avoid
smacking
her head on the cave floor.

"I was
wondering
when you'd try that that," said Callisto casually, before switching
into
a patronizingly syrupy tone: "Poor, poor dear--so weak."
Still
lying on the floor, Xena pushed herself partly up and tried to grab
Callisto's
ankle, but Callisto nimbly leapt out of the way. A moment later,
she was flat on her back with Callisto straddling her and yanking her
arms
over her head. Even the pressure of Callisto's hand on her wrists
ached--every part of her body was so sore. Callisto slapped Xena
once on each cheek, leaving a hot hand-shaped imprint in the process,
about
as red as a sunburn. "That's for stupidity, Xena," she said in a
hard voice. "Old habits die hard, even when they work against
you."

Callisto bent
down to cover Xena's lips with her own, invading Xena's mouth with her
tongue. She replaced the cuffs so that Xena had her arms still
pulled
above her head and her legs apart and proceeded to lay claim to her
victim's
body, while Xena mutely endured. Afterward, Callisto had pulled
Xena
close and proceeded to stroke her matted hair and caress her abused
flesh,
all the while crooning endearments. "Why did you make me hate
you,
Xena?" she would ask with genuine bewilderment. "Why did you make
me live to hurt you?" Still manacled at the wrists and ankles,
Xena
remained mute, while she recoiled inside in horror at her desire for
those
gentle touches to continue.

* * *

A few more
days
passed, with the usual beatings and other torments. Callisto
opened
the wounds on Xena's back once more and occasionally tried to play her
fire game, but Xena was too weak and exhausted to provide much sport,
and
Callisto had to content herself with flicking small flames at a victim
who was almost too weary to slap them out. Xena gazed at Callisto
continually with the same blank, dull stare out of red-rimmed eyes.

One night,
after
the usual humiliating meal, and a trip outside to relieve herself, she
had been chained all night to the wall, arms and legs far apart.
The rough stone was a continuous torment to the knife wounds on her
back
and to the blisters that dotted her back, buttocks, and legs. It
seemed that every muscle in her body screamed with pain. Her
cheeks
flamed from Callisto's burning slaps, and strands of hair kept sweeping
her face, and she couldn't shake them away. If she looked down,
she
saw a carpet of bruises, blisters, and welts covering the front of her
body. The accumulation of agonies was almost more than her will
could
bear, but she clamped down hard on the shriek that kept trying to force
itself out of her throat. She tried to divert herself by thinking
of a time before, but she wondered if such a time was merely an
illusion,
and she had always been right here--nothing but a plaything for a
sadistic
and demented god.

She was
exhausted
enough to catch some merciful snatches of sleep. She woke in the
morning with a start, expecting the usual bucket of cold water to be
flung
at her. She had begun to wake each morning moments before this
daily
ritual, all of Callisto's routines having become terrifyingly
familiar.
Some were so familiar as to be banal. She hardly thought anything
of taking her water from Callisto's lips or her food from Callisto's
hand
every evening. Some part of her still remembered that she should
find this deeply mortifying, but she was so anxious for the food and
drink
and so impatient to get off her aching knees, that she eagerly took
whatever
Callisto offered her, and it had never been enough to sate her hunger
or
thirst--just enough to keep her alive and conscious.

The cold
splash
never came. Callisto was sitting on a rock, elbows on her knees
and
head in her hands, obviously brooding. Xena waited silently,
trying
to ignore the stinging of her various blisters and wounds, the constant
jumping and trembling of strained muscles, the gnawing hunger and
parching
thirst. She was beginning to think that in crucifying her and
breaking
her legs, Caesar had been a model of humanity and mercy.

Callisto
suddenly
leapt up. She stood in front of Xena, placed her hands on her
hips,
and declared, in a flat tone, "The problem, Xena, is that I'm
bored.
I thought I would enjoy tormenting you for at least a few years, but
you
really aren't nearly as entertaining as I thought you'd be."

Callisto
smiled
delightedly for a moment at this indication that Xena was not entirely
broken. "We had some fun times," she said in a wistfully
nostalgic
tone, "but . . ." she stretched at full length, with her hands laced
high
above her head, and yawned ostentatiously, "you've ceased to
amuse.
So I'm going to let you go." She waved her hand wearily, and the
cuffs winked out of existence, leaving Xena to drop on her hands and
knees
with a dull thud. She almost yelped at the pain to her bruised
knees
and to her blistered hands, but her brain was beginning to process what
Callisto was saying.

She remained
on
her hands and knees in an almost stupor, unused to moving of her own
volition.
Callisto tossed Xena her clothes with an irritated flip of her
arm.
Xena didn't flinch when one of her boots hit her arm. "Put them
on,
Xena," ordered Callisto, the edge of annoyance in her voice belying the
falsely patient tone.

Xena pulled on
her undergarments slowly as if in a trance. She carefully pulled
her leather garment over her head, wincing at the muscle pain involved
in doing so and the shock of the material touching her abraded
flesh.
She considered her boots for a moment, and decided it was too much to
attempt
and simply held them in one hand. Callisto held out a hand and
pulled
Xena to her feet. Suddenly she reached over her shoulder and drew
her sword. Xena jumped slightly, and Callisto laughed harshly,
and
sliced a quick gash into Xena's upper arm, saying, "To remember me
by."
Xena stood carefully, barely reacting to the flash of pain and the
welling
blood. Callisto smacked Xena on the rear with the sword and
snapped,
"Go on, get out of here. I'm tired of you."